


the Earth amongst all that she is

by 7sun



Category: Spilled ink - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 12:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7464033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7sun/pseuds/7sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a poem that I wrote for Adriana</p>
            </blockquote>





	the Earth amongst all that she is

I knew the Sun had remembered me since we last spoke;  
there was a pink-orange painted sky when I awoke  
and the other stars, all gleaming and proud,  
were nothing compared to the Sun's might.  
Over the water and under a light,  
I had sailed and sailed under this dreamy sky,  
shining from the Gods, shining from the heavens,  
shining from a lantern passing by,  
and I had sailed into oblivion.  
The Earth did not remember me.  
The wind was blowing through her leaves,  
through her roots, through her streams,  
and for a moment, I thought She did.  
She welcomed me back so warmly,  
arranging her white skirt,  
with pockets full of sand and sea.  
The once bright stars were now pinholes in the sky,  
and I knew the golden Sun would one day fray away.  
The stars are not wanted now,  
I put back every one.  
Packed up the Moon and dismantled the Sun.  
Make way for oceans and make way for wood,  
make way for the Earth and all of her good.  
I was filled with old starlight and soft-silver memories,  
she laid down on a bed of red roses.  
A thousand petals, sweeping across skin,  
growing and growing until we were flowers as well,  
sprouting cherries and time wearing thin.  
We were tucked into a green corner of the world,  
and the Earth, bright eyed, was watching the night sky swirl  
as if it was amongst paintings hung in a museum,  
but we were the only two allowed to see them.  
The landscape looked hand drawn,  
and the clouds were soft shelled and malleable,  
ready to rain down on us like volcano ruble.  
And my, the rain, it was crescenting, eternal.  
We watched the fireworks run in fear,  
all of the birds, all of the lions, all of the deer  
were going against a grain and I watched the Earth steer  
us into safety.  
We were still tucked away in our corner.  
I heard the musicians were all shipped away,  
their drums and baritones and broken high E strings all in dismay,  
and I heard the watercolours that were once painted onto hearts  
were now chipped and falling apart.  
We were still tucked away in our corner.  
The Earth was taking Polaroid pictures with her eyes,  
some of the water, some of the trees,  
one of her standing amongst the green.  
Roses were growing in her cheekbones  
and I would have told her I was fond (of her)  
but the night quickly turned to dawn  
before I had the chance to speak.  
She said I was the embodiment of pink skies,  
and that I was the one painting the roses on her cheeks.  
We sat on the sand, on the beach  
and the Earth took my hand.  
I had nowhere to be; but the universe was her playground,  
while I had wings to spread and songs to sound,  
but in a way, so did she.  
I cried an ocean outwards from the sand,  
and she left me a notion  
by dotting her coordinates in the sky's constellations.  
I sang her one last song before she left.


End file.
